Echo
by ora.pro.nobis.peccatoribus
Summary: A rash of particularly strange omens coincides with the Winchesters' meeting up with a hunter chasing personal demons. A begrudging alliance prompts the release of well kept secrets.
1. Author's Note

Author's Note: I know a whole "chapter" for this is unorthodox, but I don't really want to clog the story with this.

I don't claim ownership to anything but the original character in this piece, and the basic storyline I give credit to a friend of mine. A brilliant outline, which I took and slowly made mine. The title is inspired by an Incubus song, and they've made up a good portion of the playlist I've been listening to while writing this.

Wrap up, everything belongs to its respective title-holders.

Rated mature for language, violence, perhaps something else later?

Enjoy.


	2. Something about the look in your eyes

She brushed a stray strand of hair from out of her eyes and sighed heavily, slumping to the floor of the cold alleyway, listening to the distant sound of water dripping down along the dark, heavy bricked walls, and wondering how many times she was going to get this chance and why she kept letting it get away from her.

--Twelve hours prior--

The cell-phone, tucked away in the nightstand drawer next to the Holy Bible, which had seen more sin than virtue inside these walls, rang loudly, even through the wood, beckoning her out of another horrible dream and back into the world, a slowly dying, infected world.

She rolled over, fighting with the duvet, arms and legs tangled in the sheets since the heat in this old, backwater motel shut off sometime around midnight on what must have been the coldest night in the universe. She ran her fingers through her tangled and knotted hair, twisted from her tossing and turning, as she flipped open her third disposable cell-phone in three weeks.

"I know you're probably at your wit's end, and just finished up with a case, but I thought you might want this information first." The voice on the other end was gravelly and marred by static. She checked her cell reception quickly on the cracked screen, before mumbling something to him along the lines of 'sure, what is it?' The unmistakable noise of rustling paper cut across the conversation, and she held in a sigh. "There have been a few more omens."

"Where?" She cut off, frantically. "What kind?"

"Well, if you'd chill the fuck out for a second, I'll get right to that." He swore, though he was used to this behavior of hers, especially on this subject. "You sure you don't want some downtime? Or at least something a little less…_ dangerous_?"

"There's no time for something like that, and you know it." She carded her thin fingers through her hair again, gasping quietly when she snagged a knot. "With the opening of that damned gate, who knows how many got out? And you know damned well I'd rather go out fighting than watching and waiting." She nearly shouted into the phone, losing her patience. She was trembling a bit by then, shifting uncomfortably in her bed. "Tell me what you have." She added after a pregnant pause, tone dropping more level.

"Well, outside the usual omens, there have been a rash of unexplained pregnancies and deaths." He stopped talking suddenly. "You sure you want to do this?" He asked tentatively.

"For Christ sake. Don't question me." She demanded bluntly. She drew in a shuddering breath and dug her trim nails into the bared flesh of her thigh. The thought of facing what she's been hunting for almost ten years makes her entire body shake to the core. She is so afraid to face it, what it means to have the fate of that creature in her hands, but she can't turn back. Not now.

"I worry about you."

"Well don't." She quipped with no heat. "I can handle myself."

"Until you run yourself ragged." He amended like a parent. She could almost see him shaking his head, the closest thing she had ever had to a real father. The corner of her mouth turned up at the sigh in his voice. "Eureka, Utah." He stated finally. "Just don't go and get yourself killed, ya hear?"

She smiled completely then, letting the warm tone of his voice, his fatherly devotion to her, blot out the horrible tremble waiting to force her down and make her weak, that undeniable panic that only confirmed her worst fears. She promised to keep herself safe, told him she'd call in when she got there, agreeing half-heartedly to all his little demands for her safety, even going as far as to offer to come out three times, which she responded to with a polite 'no,' each time. She rolled her eyes good-naturedly after a while, and eventually hung up, much to his dismay.

She padded to the bathroom then, hoping that the place still had hot water running, and was delighted to see her luck finally coming through, not that she really believed in luck.

The warm water worked the tension out of her muscles and she ran through the items tucked away in her trunk, keeping her mind busy and off that lingering panic worming around inside her heart.

The sun over Eureka was high and beat down on the pavement with an unknown vengeance, though, in the distance, there were storm clouds rolling in, heavy and dark, and the barometric pressure was acting strange, a sure fire thunderstorm on the way. She couldn't feel surer that this was a sign, good or not depended on how this ended up.

It was too early to try anything except set up shop somewhere, and she found another run-down aging motel on the edge of town, stepping into the main office to pay in cash, too tired and frustrated to deal with the credit cards, and not trusting herself to even sign the right name at the moment.

The manager sent her a lecherous smile, and she bit back the threat on her tongue that she could do things to him that would haunt him the rest of his life if he dared to lay a finger on her. She was not in the business of hurting the innocent, no matter how disgusting they may be.

She threw the door open to room nine, and was pleased to see just a plain room; no unusual accouterments or tacky bobbles. She had seen quite a few ridiculous motels over the years, and was always inwardly thankful that every once in a while, she ran into one that just wasn't outright ridiculous.

She headed over to the nightstand by instinct, pulling open the drawer and lifting the dusted and unused Bible from the inside. Cracking it open, it still held the new book smell she had always loved. She read a passage out loud, though quietly to herself, before replacing the book, and continuing on to her next solid habit: salting the windows and doors.

Feeling as secure as one could with the dark knowledge of the world resting smugly on her shoulders, she dropped a duffle onto her bed, removing a trusted shotgun which she then proceeded to pull apart and clean out.

Trying to busy herself until the most opportune moment, she bustled about the room, preparing more holy water than she probably needed, and checked the can of spray paint she had packed into her bag, attempting to judge if there was enough left in the can, or if she would be better served with another can. In the end, she just added a second one to the bag, paranoia a common trait of her kind. Better to have and not need, than need and not have, she always said.

The old clock on the nightstand clicked the minutes by slowly and agonizingly loud, and by the time six o'clock had rolled by, she was ready to unplug the thing from the wall if not throw it out the window.

She sighed heavily, falling ungracefully into a chair set by the small table in the room. Pulling out a stack of papers and her laptop from another bag, she ran through missing persons reports and logs of the victims she had obtained through a little wrangling, a little fraud, and a little flirting. She made a note that every one that had been killed had been last seen outside of the same clubs, all situated in a small area of the town.

She tried to deduce a pattern, but couldn't see a clear one, though all the victims in this town had been women. She knew that whatever she was looking for had probably skipped town already, but these demons usually are found in pairs, so there was still a chance. In any case, one would almost definitely lead her to the other, and it was only a time before she had to face her demons.

That pun was awful, even though she hadn't said it out loud, and she couldn't help herself but to laugh at it, though without humor. She took out a knife of hers she hadn't used in a while, the frail gold blade barely used and sharp as ever, glinting ferociously in the dim light. The damned thing had cost quite a lot to procure. She examined it for a while, turning it over and over in her hands, knowing that this blade's final victim would be her final hunt.

The thought of finally seeing the end of this seemingly never-ending journey tugged at her, and it's finality was slightly disturbing.

She swallowed hard and wrapped the knife back up carefully, sliding it into her boot before grabbing her duffle off of the bed and grabbing her car keys, careful of the salt line in front of the door before locking the room behind her and getting into her baby, her Mustang, and heading off to the clubs in town.

Noting the victims had been abducted in the alleys, she used her spray paint to set up traps, the dark color almost unseen on the dark tar. She tossed debris around them, to hide them even more. She opted against the use of her guns in the end, knowing that there would be no way for her to hide them on her person. The traps and her knife would be enough if she was right about what was here. Other wise, the holy water and the exorcisms she had memorized would take care of business, leaving her on another wild goose chase. She pushed that thought out of her mind and readjusted the outfit she had on, even now still slightly uncomfortable showing this much of her body, but knowing that she wouldn't fit in otherwise.

She'd never felt so alienated in her life; figures that would make her the perfect target. Having hunted for so long, she could almost _feel_ it in her bones when a demon was around. Her family history couldn't have helped less with that, but now was not the time.

She casually just took another sip of her drink, which was deceptively non-alcoholic, the weight of the knife heavy against her calf, tucked nicely out of sight, but right where she could get it.

The man sidled up to the bar with a purpose, resting a cool hand on the small of her back, and she pulled the act out, smiling coyly and dropping her face to her drink. Her level of practice with this was frightening; she could almost predict what was going to happen down to the last second. But one thing she always remembers is that there is room for error. The day she forgot that would be the day she'd die, and for the life of her, she needed to stick around for a little longer; she was so close, but running out of time.

The blade burned against her leg, urging her, bringing her back to the task at hand. The unnaturally cold breath against her neck and the frigid palm pressing ice through the thin fabric of her shirt tipped her off that he was exactly what she had been looking for; an unusual creature, but no less deadly than his siblings. But something was wrong: he was alone.

She listened to him spill useless words into the air between them, smiling like a hapless victim, letting him take in every inch of skin with his eyes as he lured her outside. She amped up the act, vague fear, wide doe-eyes as he pulled her deeper and deeper into the darkness, humid and heavy, thick with the smell of blood, sex and drugs. The rays of the neon lights started to fail and the bricks grew darker and more menacing. He stopped moving then, turning on her like a rabid dog, eyes glinting a strange blue from the sign of the club, reflecting like a tepid pool under the moonlight. A deep growling snarl rose up in his throat and he tried to get her, arms reaching and failing as she walked around him slowly.

"_You_!" He accused vaguely, looking down at the ground beneath him, seeing, under the garbage strewn about on the floor, a trap, a devil's trap, and now in her hands a gold knife, shining maliciously in the night, a strange, eerie beckon and if he had a heart, it would have dropped into the stomach he would have had. "Take it easy with that." He warned, as if he had any control over her now.

"Where is she?" She asked bluntly, staring straight into his dark eyes, seeing herself reflected in the black orbs.

"What are you talking about?" He snapped, turning in his cage again before looking her in the eye.

"_Áve María, grátia pléna, Dóminus técum_." She ceased her pacing then, holding his gaze as the words fell from her lips. He writhed and moaned, eyes glinting like blue fire as he tried to grab her again. "_Benedícta tu in muliéribus, et benedíctus_-"

"Wait! Wait!" He screamed then, a pleading look on his face. "She's gone. She was killed."

Her eyes narrowed and her chest tightened.

"When?" She inquired coldly, changing her grip on the blade.

"A week ago. Back in Indiana. She got careless and wound up dead." He explained fitfully, still trembling.

"Then you don't have much time left, then, do you?"

He didn't respond to her then, just watched her as she resumed her circling.

"You know where I can find another pair?"

He fixed his stature then, crossing his arms defiantly over his chest, a deep laugh rising up from inside him that echoed and battered against the aged brick walls.

"So you can hunt them down? Who do you think I am? I've got seven days left, I'm not afraid of you."

"Well that's too bad." She stated without inflection.

"For you." He spat.

"Enjoy Hell." She growled. "_Áve María, grátia pléna, Dóminus técum. Benedícta tu in muliéribus, et benedíctus frúctus véntris túi, Iésus. Sáncta María, Máter Déi, óra pro nóbis peccatóribus, nunc et in hóra mórtis nóstrae. Ámen."_ She watched him squirm and scream under the weight of the words and with the final word having crossed her lips, she drove the blade into his throat and watched as his body disintegrated, falling apart into black dust.

She brushed a stray strand of hair from out of her eyes and sighed heavily, slumping to the floor of the cold alleyway, listening to the distant sound of water dripping down along the dark, heavy bricked walls, and wondering how many times she was going to get this chance and why she kept letting it get away from her.

If she had been in Indiana, if she had found him sooner, if. Always if and it was driving her insane. The guilt on her soul dug its claws in a little deeper each time she failed. Nine years have passed and nine years of deaths she was the cause for have plagued her and worn her down. She needed to redeem herself; she needed to feel as if she finally could stand up straight, to be able to look at herself in the mirror and not see death.

She slammed her fist against the ground and screamed.


End file.
